


don’t ask her to moan (make her)

by meremennen



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: 'Fix-it' fic, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-05 02:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20481671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meremennen/pseuds/meremennen
Summary: “Okay, so, here’s what I remember: Too much tongue. Too much groping and — how to put it mildly — you were bragging about the size of your cock, so much, and repeatedly, but um —“ she shrugs halfheartedly,” when it came to the big reveal, I’ve seen bigger. And believe me, to me, the size doesn’t matter as much as you think.It’s the technique.But you were, um, all talk and low performance, big boy. I didn’t even come.”OR:a bellarke modern AU where Bellamy and Clarke slept together once (after one too many drinks) and up until now Bellamy thought he brought his A-game to the bedroom and rocked her world.Four years later, following one too many drinks Clarke confesses that their time together wasn't exactly as mind-blowing as Bellamy remembers, wounding his ego. He is hell-bent on proving she is wrong about his bedroom skills.He’s changed. He might have been overly cocky four years ago, but he’s matured a lot, both emotionally and intellectually; he is an attentive lover.He is not going to leave her side this time until he gave her an orgasm.(And if she realizes she is in love with him, too, even better.)





	1. oh, Darling

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up this Saturday with the errant thought of 'ok, but what if Bellamy and Clarke slept together on a dare once, and he thinks he was amazing in bed, but he wasn't and she slips years later the truth and he's shocked and hurt and takes it up as a challenge to prove her wrong.'  
It's also kinda my 'Fix-it' fic for 'size is not everything' and 'Bellamy is always amazing in bed'. I mean, eventually... he is.  
.  
There is a second part to this.

.

“No way, no. I’m not playing that game again, we are way too old for that.”

Riley has a point.

Well, Bellamy doesn’t necessarily think they are that old for Truth or Dare, that game is pretty ageless, but they did end up playing it quite a lot in the past. (Years, they played it for years.) Some variety would be nice.

Murphy groans, mostly out of frustration, it was his second idea that was vetoed tonight. Since tonight they are celebrating Bellamy’s success, everyone is looking expectantly at him, waiting for him to decide.

“Sorry. Seconded.”

Murphy is going to be insufferable if they don’t do something soon, though, so Bellamy keeps racking his brain for possible ideas.

Anything.

“Okay. How about something less ... restrictive?”

“Got any ideas there Professor Blake?” 

Bellamy Blake, at twenty-nine, well-established professor of History (specialization in Ancient Civilizations) is pretty content with his life. He has a few rough years behind him — it is all in the past, thankfully, and he’s learned, he’s matured, all grown up; all the challenges and obstacles in his life made him wiser. They made him who he is now.

He couldn’t wish for more, really.

Tonight is special. 

The workload is gradually picking up with the start of the new semester approaching; he’s been buried deep in outlining his course plan and applying for various grants.

Today, he finally did it. 

The dean asked him to see her, not that unusual at this time of the year, he still didn’t expect anything life-altering coming out of it. She shared the good news with him five hours ago: he is getting the grant for his research on Post-Hellenistic Influence in South-East Asia. 

His long-cherished dream is a step closer to becoming a reality.

With the grant, he gets the money and additional resources in 2 assistant lecturers who are to help with his semester plan and research.

He is so so relieved and indescribably happy, it calls for some drinks.

Fast forward to five hours later, they are at _ The Pit_, pleasantly buzzed.

“We could just ... I don’t know ... one of my students suggested last year doing this “Get To Know Me” meme as an icebreaker. Everyone drops in a topic, we go in rounds and ... “he shrugs, “no veto this time.”

Everyone agrees, they clink their glasses. Roan winks at Murphy before the beginnings of a smirk appear on his face, flashing his teeth.

“I’ll start. Sex.”

Murphy nods to himself in content, Monty releases an exasperated sigh wordlessly, Harper reaches out and squeezes his hand. Miller and Bryan are lost in their own little bubble, Riley stares into his drink, Clarke’s eyes widen for a moment before she shrugs. Raven flips her hair to the side and throws a pretzel at Roan.

“Typical.”

He flips her off, “Honest hour, Reyes. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” Then, he puts his arms on the table, making his chair squeak, his go-to signal of demanding attention. “How good do you think you are in bed?”

The grading is Raven’s idea.

“So how do we do this? _ Rotten Tomatoes _ or _ imdb _ style?” asks Miller.

“Professor Blake style,” chimes in Clarke, nodding to herself proudly.

Her cheeks are a nice touch of pink, courtesy of the first few rounds of drinks and stuffy atmosphere of the place. She smiles wider at him when she catches him pout.

“Alright, Griffin,” he huffs. “You go first.”

She taps a finger to her chin, inhaling a deep breath, taking her sweet time with her answer. After the second deep breath, her teeth catching on her bottom lip, looking like a conspirator in a movie.

“I give myself a B+ slash A- because even though I do have a few good tricks up my sleeve, even I know that I will get better with age.”

Bellamy snorts to himself in silent agreement, _ Yeah, she is right. _

She did have a few tricks in her arsenal already at twenty and a half, that much he remembers perfectly. That thing she did with her hands felt magical that one time they hooked up. 

Miller gives himself a B+, Bryan shushes him and smacks a kiss on his lips. “You’re a solid A, babe. Don’t sell yourself short.” 

Monty says a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, and when Murphy calls him a chicken and raises his arms, in mock imitation of a chicken with clucking noises, repeatedly flailing his limbs up and down and chanting _ buck-buck-buck _ for ducking out of a real answer, Harper cuts in, ensuring everyone that her boyfriend “may strike you as a fawn, he is, in fact, a passionate and generous lover. If you know what I mean” wink wink.

Roan gives himself an A+ without batting an eye; he raises his glass and makes everyone drink for that.

And then it’s Bellamy’s turn and — 

Alright, he had his fair share in one night stands and hookups, he was seeing a girl three years ago he openly called his girlfriend, so he feels confident when he says:

“I give myself an A, because —“ he looks Clarke in earnest in the eyes on autopilot,” A, I am older than most of you and B, the ladies never complained.” 

He knows he is being an ass to some level, but it is _ his _ night, and he is tipsy; everyone brags a little when they are tipsy. Leave it to Raven to grade herself an A+++ soon anyway. It’s not like he is overestimating his bedroom skills by much. Tipsy or not, that much he knows, Bellamy fucking Blake is good in bed.

“Oh, I —” Clarke starts before scrunching her face and cutting herself short.” 

He smiles at her encouragingly. 

Honestly, she looks so damn cute when she scrunches her face or her nose, add to that the aesthetic of a few strands of her hair — that have gotten loose from her lazy bun —swishing and shining brightly against her skin, even under the artificial lights, giving her a look of an angel. 

If he is right and she thinks about _ The Night _ they hit the sheets together in mutual agreement, in the biblical sense, he wants to see her blush. 

They have never actually talked about what had happened. 

It happened basically on a dare. No. It happened after someone challenged them for a dare. She wanted sex, and he wanted sex, and they said they wouldn’t but then they did anyway. No questions asked. If anyone asked them about it — but they barely did — they said it was on a dare.

Simple. They’d all been there, they know what happened that led to it.

Now, between friends, under the dimmed lights of _ The Pit_, it is the perfect time for that ego boost, even if it comes years later. 

“What was that, Princess?“ he winks at her, and he hopes he doesn’t come across as someone who is too desperate for validation. “It’s a free country. You can say whatever you want.”

Which, soon enough is proving to be a mistake.

“I just meant to say that you were a solid C at twenty-five if my memory doesn’t trick me.”

Raven and Miller sniggers, Roan snorts. Murphy’s not shy hiding his stupid, self-indulgent grin. Monty and Harper give him the look of empathy (TM) and they smile at him, then they smile at everyone, quickly averting their gaze, looking anywhere but him.

Ouch, awkward. 

Riley is just there, staring into his drink, not long before taking a long sip to avoid any eye contact and Clarke... 

... Clarke is biting on her lip, slightly flushed, but not shying away from his gaze.

Her words finally catch up to him. It feels like a bucket of ice-cold water against his skin.

“Um, _ what_?”

He might have felt pleasantly tipsy, but that was before, thanks to the drinks and good company. Now, there is nothing more sobering than the girl you’ve had _ A Thing _ with four years ago, and are secretly in love with for minimum two, confessing you are shit in bed.

He gestures with his hand to _ carry on, Clarke _ and tell him everything; it’s not like Murphy or Raven won’t ask if he doesn’t, they don’t have any boundaries. The universe works in strange ways; tonight, he is not lucky enough to pass out right about now, or summon a black hole to swallow him and bring him back in time and stop whoever’s great idea this game was.

It’s not funny anymore.

Clarke gives him a half-smile; maybe he is reading too much into it, but her smile says, _ you asked, sorry for this, I cannot control my tongue after two fingers of Scotch. _

“Okay, so, here’s what I remember: Too much tongue. Too much groping and — how to put it mildly — you were bragging about the size of your cock, so much and repeatedly, but um - ”she shrugs halfheartedly” when it came to the big reveal, I’ve seen bigger. And believe me, to me, size doesn’t matter as much as you think. _ It’s the technique. _ But you were, um, all talk and low performance, big boy. I didn’t even come.”

Scratch that. 

It feels like winter is here, in the middle of August, surrounding him, consuming him, and he is totally unprepared for it: for the piercing cold chilling his bones to the core, reaching every atom and cell, and slowing everything down around him.

Too much tongue.

I’ve seen bigger. 

Low on performance. 

I didn’t even come. I didn’t even come. I didn’t even come. I didn’t even come. I didn’t even come. 

SHE DIDN’T COME.

SHE DIDN’T COME.

SHE DIDN’T COME.

  
  


**2015, four years ago**

“Griff, Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

“How long has it been?”

“As in -“

“Sex. You are wearing a spectacularly low cut top for January. You are still wearing a bra, so you are not that desperate, but something tells me, you don’t wanna go home alone tonight. The girls look amazing, by the way, right Blake?”

Bellamy almost chokes on his tongue.

Right. He was eyeing said low cut top, and the tantalizing skin underneath, and he was caught staring by none other than Roan.

He is not exactly ashamed by it, like Roan pointed out, it is a nice look, and Clarke put them on display for a reason. (He’s pretty sure Murphy and Roan and Niylah were ogling her too.) 

He still wishes Roan would have let him in peace and invisible.

He nods and grunts, “Nice top, _ Princess_. The black really brings out the colour of your eyes.”

Roan claps him on the shoulder. 

“Nice save,” Miller mutters and Bellamy sighs in relief.

“— _ a while_. And that’s all you're gonna get.”

A small bowl of pretzels and round of shots later, it is her turn again.

“Truth or Dare?”

Despite their lowered inhibitions after the drinks, she eyes Roan carefully. (Bellamy does too. After Roan caught him staring, it just seemed like a good idea to stay alert, as much as he could.)

“Dare.”

Roan tilts his head to the side, pointedly in Bellamy’s direction, and he says, voice unwavering: 

“I dare you to let Blake grope the girls for ten seconds.”

She scoffs. 

“What? No. _ No_. I’m not that desperate.”

Roan grins, letting his eyes roam between him and Clarke. “Alright. I dare you to grab Blake by the collar and spend seven minutes with him in the back room. Gina gave me the keys. Take it or leave it.”

She narrows her eyes, eventually giving in with a long sigh and lifts her hands for the keys.

“Seven minutes in Heaven," he winks at her." Use it well.”

*

“So what are we gonna do?”

“_The Silence King. _ It’s a game. Whoever breaks the silence first, loses and owes the other a favour. No questions asked.”

He doesn’t know what brings him to say it — maybe it’s the drinks, maybe it’s the comfort of the dark — before she turns the key in the lock, he puts a hand on hers, effectively pausing her in the action.

“We could, _ you know _.”

She raises an eyebrow in question.

“I could help you out, that is. All that tension is not good for a young body —“

“I’ll think about it,” she responds hastily, turning the key in the lock and gestures for him to step in the room first.

*

They are ready to leave when she finds him. 

“No questions asked. I’m cashing it in.”

He huffs out a laugh, clucking his tongue. “Your place or mine?” They end up at his place, which is luckily only his, since Octavia moved out and he’d been too lazy to put an ad out there for a roommate yet.

He kisses her neck, her ears, peppering her nose and cheeks before he actually kisses her, no more teasing whatsoever, tongue working its way into her mouth. Hungry and sloppy, his hands all over her body, before settling and squeezing her ass.

“Princess. Oh, _ Princess_, I cannot wait to undress you and show you my cock. Here, give me your hand and feel it,” he says, reaching for her left hand at her sides and guiding it to his crotch. 

She takes over from there. And she feels amazing. She raises on her toes, lips an inch away from his ear and releases a small sigh.

She rubs and rubs and rubs him, through his jeans, and he licks her neck eagerly, gropes her breast in her bra in response. She’s removed her top a while back, but left the bra on. It’s tiny and black, matching her top, with a thin lace trim running along the rim.

It’s not long from here to drag her to his bedroom and undress each other completely, before he is on top of her. Her hands are twisting and turning around his shaft, working him expertly and he soon reaches for a condom, kissing her deeply as he pushes inside her.

She sighs, she grabs his ass eagerly, his shoulders. He squeezes her boobs, she raises her hips up up up and he chants, “that’s it, Princess, take it, take it deeper. You’re doing so well, it feels so good.”

He is totally blissed out by the end of it. 

They are both heaving when he pulls out and ties the condom. He invites her to stay for the night, placing a kiss on her forehead before they fall asleep.

  


**Present**

He blinks, and blinks and blinks again. 

What a vivid dream. 

He blinks. He swallows. He awkwardly scratches the back of his head. His palms are sweaty. His hair is permanently curling at the nape of his neck. It hits him out of the blue that he wanted to have a haircut earlier this week but he had been so busy, so enveloped in his own thoughts and the planning of the semester, by the faculty meetings and his research that he hasn’t gotten around it just yet.

He is here, at _ The Pit_, their go-to bar, two stops from his apartment, three stops from Clarke’s and four stops from the university. 

It is not a dream.

Four years after his night with Clarke, four years of believing he gave her his best. Four years of believing she felt intimidated by his sexual prowess, four years of thinking that’s why she never came asking for more, and she unloads _ all that _ on him.

The words hit him like a brick in the face.

He is bad in bed. 

No.

He was bad in bed **_with her_** _that night_. 

But.

Doesn’t mean he is bad in general.

Plus.

He’s changed.

He might have acted overly cocky four years ago, but he’s matured a lot, both emotionally and intellectually, ask anyone.

He _ is _ an attentive lover. 

Right?

Right???

Honest to God, he is one of the sweetest and most attentive, most giving in sex; he is one of the best and he wants to prove it to her.

He has to.

He only has to figure out how to turn the wheel of fate tonight in his favour.

How to convince her to give him another chance tonight and sleep with him again, make right by her. 

He is not going to leave her side this time until he gave her an orgasm. 

(And if she realizes she is in love with him, too, even better.)

***


	2. you are a piece of art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, kudos’d, or commented on this fic!

.

It’s been well over an hour, the noise of _ The Pit _ is getting louder; way to go before the place is winding down. 

Despite the drinks that followed, his brain is in overdrive and Bellamy cannot stop thinking about The Night from four years ago, or about Tonight.

He feels devastated. 

_ Oh, cry me a river_, he chides himself.

He is a man on a mission. He’d better be. Period.

With a deep sigh, he stands and sidles up to her.

“Clarke, can I talk to you for a minute?”

She blinks up at him through her lashes. She’s let her hair down from her earlier bun completely, he notices; the hair tie is secured around her right wrist, covering half of her tiny swirling tattoo.

She smiles, getting up, motioning for him to follow her. “Sure.”

They successfully find a quiet corner close to the entrance and when she turns, she blinks, her eyes apologetic and shining with worry as she is taking him in.

The words stumble out of him in a rush. “Clarke, I’m … I’m so sorry. I didn’t know I was an inconsiderate jerk like that. You asked me for a favour years ago and I promised you a good time but didn’t deliver. I feel like an ass.”

“Bell, I - uh - I think I owe you an apology, too. It wasn’t exactly fair of me to put it all out there ... especially like that... It’s not like it was horrible, or anything, “one shoulder rising in a half-shrug.” I _ did _ have a good time.”

She doesn’t say it but he feels like she meant to finish it off with an _ ‘in a way _’. Logically, he does understand what she means by ‘good time’, but it’s all in his head now and he needs her to reassure him more for him to believe it — but, here’s the catch.

He won’t — he cannot ask her to explain it further. He was still an ass for not paying attention to her reactions, he can only blame himself, and letting himself get lost in a moment of passion. 

“You hadn’t had an orgasm out of it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “So?”

He huffs. “I promised you a good time! I promised you stress relief! I promised you a good fuck! I literally did none of that! I fucked it up. And — ” he sags, letting his head hang for a moment, taking a calming breath,” — looks like my package is not big enough to dazzle you.”

“Bell,” she breaks out in a fit of giggles, covering her mouth with a hand.” I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Let me rephrase that. I didn’t say it was small. It is ... decent, as far as I can remember but I was tipsy and horny, and on a high of the prospect of getting laid. It was dark. And you’d been soooo annoying in your late teen years, if you remember, hair all slicked back, way too much gel, trying to grow a mustache —seriously, what were you thinking? — And I heard you telling the swim team in High School how Roma Bragg almost fainted at the sight of your cock — ” she lifts her palms, keeping them dramatically a good two feet apart,” — saying it is ‘_this big_’. This memory just stuck with me for years. And then we got naked and part of me thought I’d be intimidated by the sheer size of your cock but it was totally normal. _ Thank. God_.

“You were sloppy, though. Probably, I was too. I never imagined we would — “ she stops herself, sucking in a quick breath. “I don’t always need an orgasm to have a good time.”

_ But I wanted to give it to you_, a petulant voice in his head says. He clacks his teeth together, considering what to say next.

A beat later, almost pleading, “Let me do this right.”

At first, she shoots him a confused look, and not long before a tenderness is overtaking her features.

“You haven’t dated since that kid asked you out.”

“_That kid _ is a she and _ she _ has a name.”

“Alright, _ alright,” _he lifts his palms in a placating manner.” I didn’t mean to sound insensitive -“

“- But you did anyway,” she snaps back, though not unkind.

“Look, I’m sorry. Please, let me finish. My point is, I promised you something extraordinary four years ago, and I see it now how what I delivered was awful service. You could ask for returns.”

“Bell —“

“ - wait, no. Please, let me finish. So you went out with Harper’s friend around Christmas,” her face softens again, he doesn’t know why. “How long has it been since you - uh - were properly taken care of? And I don’t mean leaving you to your own devices. I mean, um, when was the last time you were thoroughly satisfied?” He feels himself getting warm. Thanks to his darker complexion, and the semi-secluded spot — unless she can sense in any way his erratic heart kicking so hard (practically beating in his throat) he‘s managed to keep his emotions at bay and his blush has remained well hidden. 

He swallows once, twice, thrice, in an attempt of forcing it — this feeling — down his throat.

Clarke parts her lips, considering her reply for a moment.

“Quite a few months.” And then, surprising him, “You’re offering, Bell?”

“Yeah. Yeah, “he swallows, careful, “_ I do_. And if it has to be one of those no questions asked things ... “he pauses, tilting his head,”... then be it,” he adds reluctantly, keeping his voice even. 

She doesn’t respond right away. Her face is composed into something rather tactical now, not giving anything away either.

“Although… I’d rather if you gave me proper feedback this time — if we’re really doing this again — my pride cannot take it again if you said I was still shit in bed at thirty-three.”

Her lips twitch and the corner of her mouth curves up infinitesimally. 

“How presumptuous of you to assume you’d get another chance in four years,” she teases. 

He ducks his head to hide his nervous laugh. He doesn’t succeed, but anyway. 

“Come on, show me your cock.”

Bellamy chokes on nothing this time for real.

“What?“ she asks innocently. “I thought you were offering to scratch this itch, but if you changed your mind, I -“

“- no. _ Nope_.” He swallows. “I haven’t changed my mind.” He’s thrilled. “And I’m not changing my mind. I just -“ he blows out some air, inhaling deeply,” I just … need a moment to process this.”

“Need a pep talk there, Blake?”

She stretches up on her tiptoes, lips barely an inch away from the shell of his ear. When he feels her breath tingling on his skin, it feels hot and cold at the same time, making him shiver. “Show me what you’ve got, Professor Blake. I’ll grade you. B+ for effort. So far, D for execution. But if you show me your cock in the next fifteen to twenty minutes, that D can easily turn into a C.”

He grabs her hand with his and they are halfway through the door when he remembers maybe it would be a smart idea to let the others know they are leaving. It must be his lucky day, after all, Roan catches him looking and Bellamy nods at him - which earns him a shit-eating grin and a thumbs up in acknowledgment - and they are through the doors and out on the streets when Bellamy has finally regained some of his consciousness to say, “My place is closer.”

They make it there in twenty-two.

**

“So, how long has it been for you, _ you know_.“

“Oh, uh, I’d rather not tell.”

“Well, I know you went out on a date with _ whatshername _ last month.”

He shudders. _ Fuck, no_. 

The jibe is not lost on him. She’s referring to Roan’s cousin (Roan’s second cousin); she’s intimidating as fuck. 

“I — went out with her in the first place because — “ _ he was lonely_, but that’s not something he wants to dive into right now. “ — It doesn’t matter. She wanted more out of it but there is this ....” he pulls a face, _ she looks at people like she wants to rip their faces off and serve it for dinner_.

“Can we — _ Please_, let’s not talk about Roan’s cousin when we’re about to … _ you know_.“

There is that tender look on her face again, which soon evaporates and it’s like an invisible switch has been switched on; her face turns into something sly and seductive. A perfect distraction. 

“We’re about to what?”

_ ‘We’re about to fuck’ _ is on the tip of his tongue, and yet — he cannot say it out loud. He doesn’t want to. Somehow it doesn’t feel right. (Not this time.)

“Cat got your tongue, Professor?” she coos, taking a step, shifting her body closer.

It. Is. On.

It is so on, she doesn’t know yet what she’s gotten herself into.

“For starters, how drunk are you? _ Please _, tell me you’re mostly sober.”

She nods, “Yep. All sobered up, just a pleasant buzz from anticipation.”

He blows out a breath, followed by a chuckle. He lifts his arms and checks his watch, clearing his throat and demanding her full attention.” We are 10 minutes over the set deadline, and I _ really _ want that C, Clarke. Do I get a C if I show you my cock?“

“Hmm ... don’t get so hasty. A deadline is a deadline. You can earn a C minus, if you drop your pants, boxer briefs included, right about now.”

“Who said I’m wearing any underwear?”

She sucks in a breath. “No way.”

He grins in response.

“Liar. Stop. Stalling.” 

“Am not.”

“Ha! Looks like you don’t want that C so much, after all.”

“Have no doubt,” he straightens, deepening his voice. His shadow is practically swallowing her whole, as he reaches for her elbows first, mostly for contact, not too long before his hands are around her and his fingertips are expertly brushing first up, then down her spine, almost possessively. When he feels her shiver, he lets one hand drop and taps her front, cupping her for a few seconds. He leaves his hand there, inches away from her covered cunt, definitely possessively. “I do want that C, ma’am,” he murmurs against the shell of her ear.

A puff of breath fans his neck as he straightens; her eyes are blown and dark, radiating heat and staring right into his.

“Too much talk. Dazzle me,” she whispers back, though it sounds like an order.

“If I remember correctly, lots of tongue and groping, right? That’s what you want, right, babe?” he teases and Clarke smacks him on the biceps for it.“

“Lesson one, Bellamy Blake, get the girl nice wet and ready before you say any more stupid.” 

He removes his hand from her crotch, unbuckles his belt, popping the buttons on his pants one by one, eyes never leaving hers, not even when she puts her hands on the low of his back in distraction, and moves them up and up and up until her arms wrap around his neck. He lets his pants drop, and leaves them pooling at his ankles, realizing he is still wearing his shoes which might be an issue. He wanted to unlace them and toe them off the moment they got into his apartment but then she brought up Roan and his cousin, and he lost his train of thought.

“Clarke, I made a mistake. My shoes are still on, and I cannot remove them unless you let me free for a moment.”

“Oh,” she looks down, which was a mistake because he moves forward at the same time and their foreheads bump together, making her squeak in pain. “Ouch.” 

“Don’t be mad at me, love, it wasn’t on purpose,” he steps back, fingers smoothing against her skin before he pecks her forehead softly.

“I know.”

He squeezes her fingers, before letting go, and leans down to untie his shoes, using the opportunity to step out of his pants as well.

The moment he’s done, her hands find his waist and a thumb starts playing with the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“It’s black, I see.”

“Yes, it’s black,” he parrots back merrily.” I _ like _ black.”

“I bet it brings out the color of your eyes, too.”

He chuckles, shoulders rising and falling with his chuckles. “You are so full of crap.”

“Is that so?” She bites on her lip, narrowing her eyes and daring him to interrupt her. She lifts a hand from his hips, slips a thumb just beneath the top she is _ still _ wearing, presenting the black strap of her bra.

He thinks he growls in response when he answers, “I _ love _ black. Hope it’s a matching set.”

“All in due time. The clock is ticking and your underwear is still on.”

He huffs in mock annoyance and clucks his tongue. “I think it’s only fair if you also lose a piece of clothing, I feel underdressed. Even if that costs me that C.”

That earns him a chuckle as she kicks her sandals off and tosses her small shoulder bag away, then she straightens, hands on her hips, expectantly staring at him.

Well played. 

He sighs, closing the distance between them with a single step.

“Before that, though, I realized, because believe it or not this past few hours have been fairly educational to me already, I never kissed you right. Can I kiss you?” 

Her breath is fanning his lips, as she nods, a little dazed. He closes the distance between their lips, pecking her softly; licking her bottom lip once. She sighs. He nibbles on her lips, slowly prying them open, asking for permission to deepen the kiss but letting her take the lead on what to do next. She slips her tongue into his mouth and he reciprocates, kissing her in earnest. 

She tastes good. Really good. He wants more and she gives it to him. Her soft fingers are soon buried deep in his hair, as he holds her tightly, one of his hands finding the back of her neck, massaging the skin slightly. He feels the rumble of a growl building in his own chest. 

They are both panting when he pulls away. He opens his eyes and watches Clarke breathe, her eyes still closed for a moment before they fly open and she’s staring at him.

“If you play your cards right, you can kiss me anywhere you want. No questions asked,” she says, out of breath.

He grins against her mouth as he leans forward for one more chaste kiss, making her sigh.

“That’s a B+ slash A- for kissing. _ Amazing _ improvement since last time.”

Her eyes are practically beaming at him, which he counts as a double win. 

“And now,” she says shakily as her gaze drops to his crotch, where the solid form of his hardening cock is very much visible,” it’s time to -“

“- not here,” he says, reaching for her hands and tugging her gently along towards his bedroom. 

He flips on the small bedside lamp, giving them enough light in the room. He gestures for her to sit down on the bed and make herself comfortable for the show, which she does, albeit she tells him she doesn’t want to sit on his bedspread in her street clothes. She looks at the bed, then at him, then back at the bed, sighs dramatically, but unbuttons her shorts and pulls them down; just enough to let her sit down in her underwear but not completely, her underwear remains a mystery to him. 

For now.

He chuckles, she is one sly genius.

“So.”

“So —“

“Stop stalling. Tick-tock. You do know I’ve seen it once already so there’s really nothing to h-“ and the cockiness dries on her throat, as he shoves his boxer briefs down in a blink of an eye, kicking them away. And then he is there, in his tan coloured t-shirt and nothing else, muscles stretching underneath, and his hard cock jutting out. 

“You were saying?”

She gulps, eyes fluttering, but still focused on his cock.

“I was saying that - um - “she cuts herself short with a shake of her head. Blowing out a breath, she squares her shoulders and looks up at him.” I wasn’t entirely fair to you earlier. Your cock is perfectly normal, again, thank God, but I — how could I forget it was so _ so _ \- so beautiful? It’s very aesthetic, Bell.”

The air is knocked out of him at her words. He was prepared for something much less elaborate, like ‘that cock looks good on you’, something to ease the tension, but she is in a trance, still, watching him, and he is so happy — honestly, beyond the moon.

“You’ve definitely earned it,” she adds, voice a little husky.

“Huh?”

“Your grade. C+. Points were taken for stalling.”

“Oh you-“ _ She is impossible. _

He lunges for her on the bed, pinning her down and grinning against her neck, her mouth. With everything, when it comes to her, he registers somewhat belatedly that she is one and a half steps ahead as she wiggles her body underneath him until she’s successfully gotten rid of her shorts.

“You’re still wearing way too many clothes.” 

She shrugs, feigning innocence until giggles overtake her that quickly turn into squirms when his hold on her hands loosens, eventually letting them go as he moves, caressing her skin wherever she is exposed. Starting at her ankles, up her thighs and stomach, unhurriedly mapping her skin with the tips of his fingers along her ribcage, reaching the fabric of her bra. He probes and feels along with the pattern in the fabric— if he’s not mistaken, there’s definitely some lace involved. He cannot wait, and he voices as much.

“I’m planning on removing your bra with my teeth.”

Her nails dig deeper into his shoulders, again, she is one step ahead, her hands have somehow made their way under his shirt. His cock brushes against her stomach, leaving drops of precum there, leaving an invisible mark there and thinking about that alone shoots a thrill of excitement down his spine. 

“But — First things first. Lesson one, remind me, what did it say?” he asks against her lips, simultaneously brushing his hands up and down her sides, making her shiver. “Make sure the girl is nice wet and ready, was it?” 

He raises an eyebrow. She catches her lip with her teeth, nodding. 

“Let me get rid of this first,” he gestures to her long top, helping her raise it over her head before he settles back on his heels and takes her in.

Yes, it is a matching black set, and there is lace everywhere. He’s definitely using his teeth to remove them. It’s decided. 

He removes his own shirt first, it felt weird to have it on with his balls and cock on display anyway, and now that she is only wearing her underwear, they are more even. 

“You are a beautiful thing, aren’t you? I don’t think I ever said that to you. Not even that first time,” _ That Night_. When he thought he rocked her world. 

She shakes her head, and tries to hide her gaze from his scrutiny when he just stares and stares endlessly, trying to catalogue every dip and every wrinkle, every freckle, every detail of her skin. 

He blows out a long breath when his eyes settle on her black, lace panties, or rather, what’s waiting for him underneath. “So, you said anywhere I want?”

She yelps, when he brushes his thumb against her clit through the lace.

He removes her panties with his teeth, just like he said he would, and without further ado, he ducks down and kisses her cunt, licking a stripe up and down her slit, circling and exploring her entrance with his tongue. 

She tastes sweet. So sweet.

Wait. How is this news to him? 

He strains his brain for details on their first time and— Oh! He meant to — he really meant to — but he hadn’t gone down on her in the haze of getting inside her sooner, and deeper. 

He was truly an idiot. 

On second thought, he is glad he hadn’t gotten to taste her then, four years ago. It was worth the wait. It makes their present time together so much more special — beyond the obvious — and the thought makes him stupidly emotional, which he cannot afford right now, when Clarke is here, in his bed and writhing under his ministrations. And that’s good, very good. Now he is certain —8489% —that he is doing something right (maybe even excellent) and he wants to give her that orgasm more than potentially getting one by the end of tonight.

Her grip on his hair tightens.

“Ohh, Bell!”

“Do you want me to come back up?”

“_What _?” She sounds dazed. 

He takes a quick look at her and — _ God_, she looks dazed, so fucking dazed, which in return spurs him on to dive back down and flatten his tongue stronger, dive deeper and quicken his movements around her swollen nub, earning him a string of profanities.

“There, there. _ Right. There! _A bit to the left. Yes. There —“

His ears are ringing by the time she pushes his head away when the lazy licks he is giving her, easing her through the aftershocks, are becoming too much. 

The ringing or the strain in his forearms and thighs are a minor discomfort compared to the all-consuming pride he is feeling: tonight, without a doubt, he got her there.

He. 

Gave her an orgasm. 

He could get used to this. All of it, to be honest. The rush, the excitement and the stillness that follows. Feeling weightless for a few blessed moments: He is an astronaut drifting in vast space, where his past and worries are non existent; he’s surrounded by nothing else but the void — echoing ragged breaths all around him like a lullaby — and the tether —a beautiful blonde woman that keeps him on his toes and centered and singing him to return home. 

“I don’t actually see your face but I can feel you smiling,” she breaks the silence after a few minutes, her voice still a little winded.

He chuckles slightly, wiping the back of his hand against his chin. “That obvious?”

In response, she runs a foot down his back, eventually stopping at his backside, angling her foot for a better grip. A beat passes and she is spooning the foot under his ass, pulling, which is his cue to come back to her and face her. Finally. 

So he does.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” 

She is all smiles and bright eyes and dimples, simply radiating. Gorgeous. Her pupils are wide and twinkling, and she’s searching his face, and he’s sure he wears a similar expression.

“Hope you have some condoms, because I wasn’t exactly thinking about this happening before I dressed to come out tonight. Even if I was dressed to kill.”

He smiles, nodding along. “We’re covered. You’re ready for this? Last chance to back out.” 

She reaches behind to unclasp her bra. “Yeah, I’m ready, so ready. Ravish me.”

His heart starts kicking like some crazy war drums.

“You are driving me crazy.”

He reaches for the condom under his bedside table, and puts the box on the pillow, in a comfortable distance away, then kisses her deeply.

Her arms wrap around his torso and his hands are cradling her face, thumbs gently brushing against her forehead until she lets out an impatient noise.

“Bell.”

His name falling off her lips is breathy; simply intoxicating and music to his ears. “You sure know _ now _ how to get a girl hot and bothered with your unparalleled oral skills—“

He growls and silences her with his fingers at her entrance.

Ripping the foil is easy. What he is not prepared for is the various ways she is capable of distracting him which involves soft lips nibbling at his ears, fingers playing with the hair at the back of his neck or massaging his ass, and a never-ending series of hot puffs of breath that just seem to short wire his brain, and he very much forgets what he is supposed to do. 

He’s barely finished with putting on the condom, when she takes him by surprise and flips them over, one of her hands pushing down on his shoulder, the other finding her balance on the bedsheet next to his torso. His hands find her hip as hers find his cock and she is halfway down, sinking down onto him practically in no time. Clarke has her palms pressed against his chest as she rides him, her perfect breasts swaying seductively right in front of his face, before he remembers what he wanted to do. 

He spanks her ass once, just enough that it stings, the sound of contact echoing in the room and making her jump. He uses the opening to suck a nipple in his mouth, then the other, kissing and biting gently. His grip on her ass tightens, pulling her back down in apology. Which, pleases her a lot, because she keeps rolling her hips tantalizingly (torturously), pushing her breasts (purposefully) in his face, retrieving almost as suddenly. He tries, as much as he can, to have some control over here, thumbs rubbing patterns in her hips, rocking his body upwards when she is pushing herself down and his hands guiding her rhythm. 

She whimpers, and rocks into him harder.

He doesn’t know how long they fuck like this, holding this position, before he pulls her down for a long kiss, seemingly getting lost in it, her hair falling around them like a curtain.

He uses the end of the kiss to pull her closer, embracing her in a tight hug, and he flips them over. 

She pouts, but not for long, as he takes advantage of their changed position. He pecks her lips sweetly in pretend apology, and pushes in deeper and harder, now that he is in charge. 

Her pout is long forgotten as her eyes widen, gasping, still clutching onto his shoulders. 

Bellamy thrusts in and out for a while before he reaches out and grabs her ankle, lifting her leg in the air and letting her foot settle on his shoulder, at the same time pushing down on the back of her thigh allowing him better access for penetration.

“_Shit_. Bell,“ she gasps, “_Bell _ \- wait, slower, it’s - “

“- oh - ahh -“

“- just like that -“

Her words are like fuel to the fire inside.

It is Clarke who angles her leg next, changing their position, until she is halfway turned under him and she is free to push herself up into her elbows and knees.

The sight is so, so mesmerizing; he feels like a starving animal, he wants to bite her neck, he wants to mark and claim her. He keeps those particular urges at bay but bites down on a spot where her neck meets her shoulders, gently — enough to leave a dent for a bit but nothing lasting — and kisses the small bruise away. Clarke makes a purring noise in encouragement, and arches her back. 

“You -,” she hums,“ you deserve that B+.”

He snaps his hips forward, “You meant A, _ right_?”

She twists her neck to smile at him, somehow managing to look a little coy and a little wicked, breathing heavily,” There is always room for improvement.”

“Ow,” she squirms as he fucks into her harder for the cheek. 

He watches his cock disappear into her pussy, her juices making it so very easy to push into her deeper.

It feels amazing.

He loves the sight of his cock stretching her — making her purr, making her gasp. “Such a beautiful sight, Clarke. You are swallowing my cock so well, like it’s been made for you.”

“Uh-huh,” she moans, reaching back with one hand, pulling him closer by his neck. “It’s perfect. It feels perfect, too.”

The praise is enough to make something snap in him, because he is so overwhelmed suddenly — and unsurprisingly — on the verge of coming; he won’t be able to hold back.

“I’m close, Clarke,” he pants. She stretches her back like a cat, pushing back against his body — the most perfect angle to swallow his cock whole. Period. —and he has to hold onto her stomach with a palm and slow her movements because suddenly it is too much and he is burning everywhere.

Soon, he is in that void again, floating and at peace, weightless, her voice lulling him in deeper. But it is also her voice that breaks through the bliss and the haze eventually and he has half a mind to reach lower and help her get there again, _ with him_.

“Oh shit,” she gasps, her hands finally giving in and she collapses into the pillow, pulling him down with her.

He is ready to pull out almost immediately but she yelps, and grips his hand. “Wait!” 

A beat passes.

“Just for a little while longer.”

His heart goes into a crazy gallop from having her this close.

He counts to ten in his head and pulls out after a few long breaths, before his cock goes too soft; he lets out a breath, and carefully angles his body away.

*

They take turns at the bathroom and he gives her one of his shirts to sleep in.

Clarke sleeps on her stomach and he sleeps on his side, his arms reaching out shortly after they settle, encircling her, his body resting against hers like a protective blanket.

“I promise I won’t sneak out without a word this time,” she murmurs.

Bellamy chuckles, “You better not, or else, I’m going to think there’s something wrong with me… We agreed to be honest this time around.”

She yawns, absently patting his shoulder.

A moment passes.

“I don’t wanna mess this up, Clarke.”

“You won’t.”

**

In the morning he wakes up with a pleasant ache in his thighs, an erection pressed against her back and with her hair in his face; surrounded by the smell of her. 

He likes it. 

“Come on, I’ll invite you for breakfast,” pulling her up from the bed, into his embrace so that they are standing nose to nose.

“Good. I’m starving. All that grading really made me ravenous.”

Bellamy laughs, feeling the vibrations of it in his whole body.

He puts his hands on her hips, his thumb absently brushing against her soft skin. 

She arches her back, pressing herself closer. He growls, grabs her hips and lifts her up to sit on the edge of the table.

“You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good. If me not sneaking out at the crack of dawn wasn’t clear enough, I need more of you,” a mischievous smile appears, then she adds, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, ” And your cock.”

“Uh oh, sure you don’t need new glasses?” he teases. ”That must be it, “he raises his hands to demonstrate” if you've found it ‘_this big_’ —“

She shoves him playfully, “Yeah, well, you are still an ass.”

“But you want me.”

She shrugs, pretending not to care, but the telltale sign of a smile is twitching at her lips. “You’re my weakness, Bellamy Blake. “

**

“Exactly how many sugars are you putting in that coffee?” She asks, looking concerned.

“I like it sweet,” he grins, facing her.” Sweet like you.”

“You did _ not _ just say that! Did you come up with this cheesy pick-up line to get into my panties? Because, I have news for you, Bell.”

His eyes darken and he leans closer, his shadow casting over her, as his arms slowly but surely curl around her waist and pull her to him. 

“I got the girl. And if it takes something cheesy to make my girl smile more, I’ll take my chances.”

“Your girl, am I? Good. Good. I like the sound of that. I’ll make sure to do something cheesy for you, too. In the future. Not now because it has to be a surprise.”

A smirk forms on his lips and he wedges a knee between her legs. 

“As a Professor — as you well know —grading is like second nature to me, I can grade you. B+ for effort. So far D minus on execution,” his palms are a solid presence on the curve of her ass, applying just the right amount of pressure, making sure that her core rubs against his thigh. 

“I’ll take that challenge, Mr. Blake.”

He presses down on her, whilst simultaneously, he moves his knee, making her jump a little backward and he watches in amusement as her face slightly flush.

She puts a hand on his chest, fingers digging determinedly into his pecks, leaving a dent in the fabric.

“I only want to point out, Professor,” her breath hitches,” we are in public.”

He cocks his head. “I know a place. Just around the corner.”

*** *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to take a little break and that’s how I ended up with [this edit](https://meremennen.tumblr.com/post/187585786849/meremennen-dont-ask-her-to-moan-make-her-a).
> 
> Thanks again for reading, kudos'ing and commenting xx

**Author's Note:**

> It just felt right cut it here, sorry. (Second part is mostly done.)  
If you liked it and want more, please _please_ leave me a kudos/comment, it would mean a lot. Thanks for reading!


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